


All Points North And West

by Missy



Category: Burn Notice
Genre: Between Seasons/Series, Gen, Genere: Family Fic, Genere: Road Trip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-04
Updated: 2010-04-04
Packaged: 2017-10-08 17:20:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/77777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam, Maddie and Fiona go on the run together after the events of "The Devil You Know".</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Points North And West

Sam's knuckles were white against the dashboard as Fiona sped down the street. "No, Dick – I need to find out…if I knew the clearance I'd…come on, we've been friends for…" Fi screeched to a stop at the light and he threw her a glare. "I've got three other guys who work higher up the chain than you, pal…don't…" He grunted, slamming the phone onto his dash as she hit the breaks again.

He glanced up at the road marker as they sped by - They were less than a mile to the police station. "Keep going, Fi," he told her. "We've got to get Maddie."

"And then where are we going?" Fi asked him. She gunned the engine again as they went through a green light. "We should be helping Michael, damn it!"

"He doesn't want us involved, so we're not involved." Sam said.

Fi glared at Sam. Their animosity was interrupted as the pleasant sound of smooth jazz was interrupted by a news bulletin. "…Just breaking now, local authorities have apprehended serial bomber Michael Westen, whose reign of terror has had Miami on edge for the past two days…"

Sam and Fi simultaneously froze. She turned the volume up on the radio, but the authorities weren't giving out any more details. Sam cursed under his breath and punched another number into the keypad of his cell phone.

The brakes squealed as she slammed them on again, Fi cursing in Gaelic as they hit a speed bump. She parked the car close to the nearest exit ramp.

"You get Madeline, I'll keep working the phone," Sam said.

Fi took out her frustration on the Hyundai as she slammed the door, jumped out of the car and rushed to the police station.

***

Maddie was composed but red-eyed when they came back to the car, and they climbed together into the back seat as Sam cursed into his phone.

His 'buddy' from Folsom was stonewalling him. "You don't know where they took him? What do you mean you can't? We've been friends since Desert Storm, Bo!" Fiona wrapped an arm around Madeline's shoulder comfortingly. "If you can't help me, gimmie someone who can. Who? I don't know, Bob, Tom, someone higher up…What do you mean 'classified'?" Sam slapped the phone down onto his lap. "You've got to be fucking with me, man."

"Sam!" Madeline hissed, and he gave her a sheepish wince.

"You mean you can't…no, you mean you won't….Bigger than you? Bo? BO?" Sam cursed under his breath as he slammed the phone down a final time.

"They have Michael, don't they?" Madeline asked. "They told me in there! They said he was gone!"

"He's not gone," Fiona said. "He's out there somewhere."

"How do you know that? They could have him, they could be doing terrible things to him…"

"If they wanted him dead, he'd be dead," Sam said.

"I don't even know who 'they' are!" Madeline cried out helplessly.

"It doesn't matter." Fi said. "Not now. Right now we need to make plans."

"But what are we going to do?" Madeline worried.

Sam slid over to the driver's seat, then turned the engine of the Hyundai. "First, we need to regroup. Then we've got to make tracks."

"Leave town!?" Madeline asked. "Just pick up and go away?"

"Mike wants us to stay safe, and if we have to do that to stay safe, we will," Sam said.

They reached a quick, silent accord, deciding by virtue of their mutual silence to simply move on.

***

The safe-safe-house was a real hole-in-the-wall, an abandoned beach house in Pompano with no electricity and no running water. Madeline sprayed every surface with Lysol before declaring it barely-livable and settling down with Fi and a greasy pizza for the night.

"I've slept in worse places," Fi said eventually, as she and Madeline huddled under a blanket and Sam gallantly lay upon the floor.

"There are worse places?" Madeline asked.

"Gutters," Sam offered. "Trashbins…"

A squeak and a rustle came from an air vent, and Sam turned around to Madeline's shrill cry. A rat peeped out of the grating, its whiskers twitching. Before he could collect his thoughts, Fi dispatched it with her pistol before Sam could retrieve his from the waistband of his jeans. "I'll get that," Fiona declared, picking up the thing by its tail and carrying it out to the dumpster.

In the depth of the night, Sam couldn't sleep. He kept himself up, dialing every number he could remember, looking up names he had long forgotten. No one was willing to talk. Everyone was willing to lose his friendship.

They were entirely alone, and he was scared shitless.

***

The three of them repaired to a diner the following morning. Fiona was already thinking of revenge, but Sam's mindset was more practical.

"We need to get supplies," he declared.

Fi's eyes lit up. "Mmm. A challenge. We should start at Madeline's house – she's the one who has full cupboards."

They waited until three in the morning to sneak into Madeline's place through the trellis exit she and Sam had escaped after he had blown up her porch. Sam and Madeline picked up packaged food and nonperishable items while Fi kept watch for the cops.

"Do you think we should ditch the car?" Maddie asked him suddenly.

Sam grinned, liking the way she thought. "I could hotwire something…"

"We're not stealing one," Madeline said, jabbing Sam's chest with her index finger. "That'll just bring the cops to our door."

"Been keeping up on your Catwoman?" he teased, but she just gave him a glare.

"I'm going next door to tall to Mrs. Reynolds. She knows someone who's been trying to sell a Trans Am."

"It's three AM!"

"She's an insomniac," Madeline retorted.

Sam shrugged. "Like mother, like daughter," he declared, finding Ms. Reynold's number and dialing it up.

 

***

Sam relieved Fi of her guard duty and sent her to sleep in the Hyundai while he waited for Ms. Reynolds to show up. Predictably, she wasn't pleased with Sam when she entered Madeline's yard. "Here's your bag and the rifle you wanted," she said.

"Thanks, babe," Sam checked the rifle, double-checked to see if it was loaded. He cocked it. The weight of it in hishands comforted him instantly.

"Sam, we need to talk about our relationship."

He felt an instantaneous plummeting of his insides. "Babe…"

Her posture showed no fear. "I can't keep playing second-fiddle to these spy games you're playing with Michael…"

"They're not games, trust me."

"…And now you're leaving Florida!" She shivered. "Who know what'll happen to you out there?"

"Nothing. I promise," Sam insisted.

"But you can't guarantee it. And I can't spend my life wondering every day if you'll come back alive."

It crashed in on him quickly. "…You're dumping me?" Sam's words came out in a whine.

She cupped his cheek and kissed it. "If you ever retire for good, look me up."

He took her hand and let out a low sigh. "I will." He kissed her palm.

Madeline peeked over the fence. "I think we have a deal," she declared. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," Sam said, then squeezed Ms. Reynold's hand. "It's gonna be fine."

***

Mrs. Reyonds did indeed know a guy who wanted to sell a car. It was a red Camaro, probably second-generation, with characteristic black stripes on the hood. They'd be packed together like sardines, but it didn't look like the Coupe they'd been riding around in. The previous owner was going through a nasty divorce and wanted to be rid of it, strings-free.

Sam stared at it in the morning light. "Looks like a good make," he declared. "How much are you willing to let it go for?"

"Just a trade," the man declared, with the flat expression of a man who's been dragged through his own personal hell heel-first.

Sam felt like he'd been there himself. He glanced over his shoulder, up the quiet residential street which could burst into violent mayhem at any minute, then back at Madeline and Fi.

Fiona shrugged, and Madeline nodded.

Sam held out his hand and made the deal.

 

***

Before they left Florida, Fiona asked if they could drop by her house. The street surrounding it proved more congested than Maddie's so he couldn't leave the car idling, but she promised to be quick. Hiding among the crowd of cars parked adjacent to the beach, Sam waited in bored irritation, hoping Fi had the sense to keep her word. But before he could form too much of a protest she arrived, a white laundry sack slung over her shoulder.

Sam was silently impressed by how quickly she'd taken care of business, but Fiona was done taking orders from him. It was her turn to drive, and she forced him to sleep; somehow the close quarters made Sam feel protected and coddled, and he fell asleep for hours, waking up somewhere past Gulfport and in the tropical heat of Alabama.

"Keep on I-59." Madeline said – Sam felt the brush of paper against his elbow, and saw a map in Maddie's hands. "We should be in New Orleans in an hour."

"We'll stop there for the night," Fi said. "It's past May – tourist season is over. Shouldn't be crowded. The only living things in New Orleans in July are natives and mosquitoes,"

"The question is where do we go after that?" Madeline wondered.

"As far away from Miami as we can get without passports," Fiona said. She rolled her eyes when she noticed Sam was awake. "Morning, sleepyhead."

He ignored Fi and said, "how about California?"

Fiona considered it briefly. "I like the skiing in Utah better."

"Utah's too crowded," Madeline said. "We'll be noticed." Suddenly, she turned to Sam. "What about Nate? These animals could go after him the same way they've gone after Michael!"

Sam pulled his shades down over his bleary eyes. "Vegas?"

"Vegas," Fi grumbled.

***

Every motel was a vacant wasteland in the middle of July; as Fiona predicted, the mote rooms were thick with mosquitoes, the towns with friendly locals. The swampy heat made Sam sweat through his clothes as they ate gumbo in a little café.

Their packaged foods began to run out, and the money was low. Desperate, they distracted a clerk and raided a drugstore with impunity; Sam took bags of chips and three hot dogs smoking from the rollers; Madeline took three packs of Virginia Slims; Fiona found her brand of shampoo and a tube of shave gel. They guiltily left behind an IOU before heading down the highway. At a motel three hours away, Fiona slept, while Madeline tried to interest Sam in the nighttime soap she was addicted to.

"How can you watch this garbage?" Sam groused.

"It's romantic," Madeline said.

"What's it about?" He squinted. "Is that guy a vampire?"

"No, he's a wizard," she pointed. "He's named Bo, and he's trapped in the body of a high school senior. THAT is Emmaline – she's his destined mate."

"Destined…mate." Sam's nose wrinkled. "Did they rip off Twilight for this crap?"

"What's a Twilight?"

"A bunch of chick books. Ms. Reynolds' niece reads it."

Madeline glared at him. "Either stay quiet or sleep in the car, Sam."

Sam was no fool. He held his peace and enjoyed the fan –cooled room.

***

Under the surface impression of calm, Sam grew desperate. None of his contacts would confirm that Michael was still alive, much less in the prison system. The news had gone ominously quiet several cities ago, with the case being refered to as being 'handled on a national level' in the most recent report. They stubbornly listened to oldies stations as they entered Texas.

They were in Beaumont when Sam picked up three bottles of hair dye. Madeline and Fi sat watching Andy Griffith Show reruns while Sam knelt beside a sink and transformed himself, eyebrows to nape, into a new man.

The response he got when he emerged from the bathroom was less than encouraging. Fi burst into peals of laughter, and Madeline just stared.

Sam was now a platinum blond.

"Ha ha," he tossed a bottle of black dye to Fi. "You're next, Morticia."

Fi bounded up to her feet, still trying to keep herself from giggling. "Ah, Sam – at least you could tell me in French."

"Vamoose," Sam replied, flopping down on the bed beside Maddie.

"What about me?"

Sam held out the final bottle to her. "How do you feel about redheads?"

***

Around Amarillo Sam started to lose faith in the notion of Michael's survival, but he didn't let either of them know. His biggest worry was Fiona, who had gradually turned into a silent coil of violent desperation ready to explode.

Sam was shocked that she _hadn't_ exploded yet. They had suffered a close call with a federal marshal outside of Elk City; lightening the load was crucial to their getaway.

In Lawton they had burned their old clothing; Sam's tropical shirts, Fiona's gauzy sundresses, and Madeline's polyester pants suits all went up in a controlled blaze in a trash can. Sam took to wearing plain jeans and tee shirts, Fiona to shapeless potato sack dresses spangled with flower prints, her hair tied up under a hat, Madeline to lighter dresses.

"Why," Fiona asked, absorbing every air-conditioned breeze in the hotel room, watching the TV, "does Emmaline put up with that man?"

"It's destiny," Madeline said.

Sam had a creeping suspicion that that was as true a reason as any.

**

Fiona finally exploded in Houston, when they came upon a guy smacking his wife around in the parking lot. Cue Fi with a taser. Cue one unconscious abuser and a side-trip to a shelter.

When they got back on the road, she seemed much better.

***

 

"What do you keep in that thing?" They'd taken a dinner break at Grants, and Sam and Fiona were cleaning out the trunk of the Camaro while Madeline got them ice cream. He indicated her white laundry sack, which seemed to remain full even with their loss of supplies.

Fiona shrugged. "The things a woman carries, Sam."

"Like?"

"Why are you so interested?"

"I'm not. The boredom is killing me."

She smirked at his tone of voice, digging through the runsack. "Magazines…a few wraps…and this."

"I knew it!" Sam said. "You brought along one of those damn snowglobes!"

"This one's special," Fiona replied. "Michael gave it to me."

Sam eyed the little souvenirs. It was made of white plastic, with a clear window in the front displaying a plastic leprechaun standing in a field of shamrocks. They rained down in plastic blobs with silver glitter when you shook it.

Fiona gave it a wry glance before she returned it to the sack.

"No," Sam said. "Keep it on the dash."

She smiled, but refused to allow him to take all the credit for the idea. "I'd been considering it – I was afraid YOU would break it."

Sam shook his head. "If it keeps you focused, It's okay."

And it kept Michael in their field of vision, where they wished he could be, where he belonged.

The emergency-emergency-emergency phone sat beside it, silent as a grave.

***

Sam had learned years ago that family was where you found it.

Still, he was amazed by how easy it was to laugh with Fi and Madeline as they sang along to the radio (they knew all the words to "Piece of My Heart", even though, in Fi's words, knowing any Big Brother And The Holding Company song by heart makes you an 'old hippie') and driving through the heart of Texas. Every night, they had pizza and watched Madeline's soap opera, the comfort of a routine that they fell into with grace.

***

In Flagstaff, Bo died.

"They should declare a national mourning period," Fiona joked, halfway asleep in the bed. Madeline got one of the twins and Sam and Fi had divided the other in half with a curtain, It Happened One Night-style.

"I'll wear black tomorrow," Sam said. It felt good to taunt death instead of ducking it.

In the middle of the night, he woke up when two small arms wrapped themselves around his torso. The arms tried to cuddle his rigid body as Sam tried in vain to squirm away.

"Michael," she murmured, and Sam thought to himself that she'd be one disappointed girl if she moved that palm lower and discovered his gut. He lay patient and mortified, waiting for her to roll away, allowing her to have the fantasy of lying beside the lover who lay elsewhere.

Sometime in the night she rolled over – when he woke up she stared at the wall.

Neither of them dignified the night's existence with a comment.

***

If Michael ever pictured them, Sam hoped that he saw them like this - Sam driving, his blond hair blowing in the breeze; Fiona with her shades and her black hair flowing in the wind like a scarf on a clothesline; Madeline sitting in the back seat, smoking her cigarettes, the three of them demanding that Janis take another piece of their heart, the voice they share beautiful only to their own ears.

***

They found Nate living in a little house on a tract development in the desert. It was a very suburban sort of neighborhood. He answered on the second knock, which couldn't have been a worse sign.

Sam and Fi had their guns drawn when the door flew open. Sam took one look at the man's tear-flooded eyes and knew it was bad, but he doesn't expect to be hugged.

"She dumped me!" he cried out. "She dumped me, mom!"

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry!" Sam had to hide a grin – Madeline couldn't mask the joy in her eyes, in spite of her comforting words. "Why don't we go inside and have some coffee?"

***

The snowglobe sat on Nate's coffee table, the phone silent. The synergy formed between the three of them extended onward - Sam, Madeline and Fi, dusty and weary from the road, decided without further discussion to go about trying to live in Las Vegas and on Nate's strange generosity.

Sam helped him out around the house, setting up his deck, working as a bouncer some nights. Fiona started bounty hunting again, and Madeline helped Nate reorganize his life while taking up her old position as a community ringleader.   
]  
And Nate didn't once suggest that Madeline move into a home.

Neither did any of them talk about going back to Miami

The emergency-emergency-emergency phone sat quietly on Sam's drawer, recharged every evening, ready for any incoming call.

***

He started growing his hair back out, letting the blond fade away. Fiona teased him about that one afternoon as they sat out on the deck, allowing the arid desert night to wax and wane around them.

"You look like a skunk."

Fi's hair was an odd black-red by then. "You look like a goth chick."

The banter hadn't changed. It was about the only thing that hadn't.

She didn't date. Sam had started thinking about it, putting down roots and developing a life. They didn't talk about the way things once were, for that simply didn't seem to matter anymore.

They didn't wonder if Michael was all right. They didn't ask if he was dead, because they knew he wouldn't want them to torture themselves over his disappearance; it had been nearly a year, and they couldn't live their lives in a bubble.

"Do you think he'd be proud of us?" Sam asked in a weak moment.

Fiona could only nod.

 

***

Three weeks later, the emergency-emergency-emergency phone started ringing…

THE END


End file.
